


title? what title? who titles fanfiction normally anymore? let's get straight to the point, instead: peterick. college. assholes. the color blue.

by staygaytabulous



Series: drabbles and such; unfinished, but maybe not forever... [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Multi, bob isn't too much of an asshole, but patrick kind of hits him upside the head until he isn't, gee is like that one crazy artist friend everyone knows, he also only has stubble, joe is utterly oblivious to everything going on around him, maybe some ryden?, oh and pete plays baseball AND soccer, pete is an asshole, spence and pat are the ultimate bromance pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staygaytabulous/pseuds/staygaytabulous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alternatively called:<br/>patrick stump sees pete wentz as the color navy blue</p><p>i don't own any of these falling boys, discos that're panicky, or science-y romances... or at least not yet anyways.<br/>if you don't know why the color blue is used so many times in different varieties, it's because patrick sees and thinks in color, it's called synesthesia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	title? what title? who titles fanfiction normally anymore? let's get straight to the point, instead: peterick. college. assholes. the color blue.

Pete Wentz was not something Patrick thought he'd have a problem with when deciding to go to college.

Too many late nights up studying and early mornings making him want to claw out the eyes of all his enemies, sure, but  _definitely_ not Pete Wentz.

He's read all the signs, check marked the entire warning list of 'reasons why patrick shouldn't talk to pw', even memorized the fact that he's kind of a douche. Still, his eyes wander over towards the darker man, sitting in his seat in the next row to his left. He seems pretty bored. He's nibbling on a nail (colored black only yesterday after someone let him borrow their sharpie for 'writing purposes') and tapping his pen to a nameless tune on his thigh.

Patrick doesn't even try to tell himself he's not watching Pete's fingers flicking the pen back and forth and saving the image for a later time. Nope, he's way past that.

He's to the point where Joe's noticing how distraught he's been. _Joe_ of all people. Joe, who barely notices when Spencer and Andy leave to go to the music shop down the street for new sticks and end up spending a good hour and a half debating which ones they should get and then testing them out on one of the many drum sets. Joe, who sleeps through most of his classes and still wonders how he got a D in his science class. Joe who, oblivious as ever, didn't realize how in love Spencer and Andy were with him until they literally locked themselves into a closet together and spelled it out for him. Probably with lots of tongue.

Patrick's face scrunches up at the thought and he shakes his head. _Good thoughts. Nice thoughts. Time to think about something other than your friends' sex lives._

He watches as Pete twirls his pen in between his fingers with delicacy. That pen is so lucky.

He should probably go get laid, everything's been screwing around with his brain. Patrick just needs a break. Needs to relax.

Now that he's thinking about it, though, his sex life has just about dissipated.

He's been too busy trying to cram all of this college knowledge into his brain, as well as dark blues, to pay any extra attention to what his dick wants.

And, oh, shit. He looks up and instead of seeing the dark brown hair that's on the back of his head, he's looking directly into the chocolate browns of yours truly. Fuck. That's Pete, giving Patrick a look of confusion since he's been staring at him for close to ten minutes now, off in his little galaxy-imagination.

He looks away and curses quietly to himself.

He sees Pete turn back to the professor out of the corner of his eye. His old, black Metallica shirt rides up on his back when he slumps forward onto his arms. Patrick can see the sliver of skin between there and his pants.

Sometimes he hates Pete Wentz, even though he really, really doesn't.

 

**-**

 

Pete's got his feet atop the red and white patched soccer ball. The baseball team has a game tonight so Pete's got his lucky ball out and isn't going to let it out of his site until it's game time, probably. Baseball games mean that Pete has to wear his uniform all day. This also means Patrick gets to stare at him four more times today wearing those tight pants: once now in History, the next in Music Theory (they don't have the same teacher, but sometimes they have joint classroom discussions), a third time in Chemistry (Pete got a course switch last minute), and the last at the actual game itself. Sure, he's never been big on sitting on cold metal stand seats staring at a bunch of guys throwing and hitting things, but this is Pete we're talking about. Totally worth freezing over.

Patrick takes one more long stare at Pete's ass in the pants, even though he's sitting in his chair so it's hard to actually see it - not to mention that Pete doesn't really have an ass to begin with - and looks down at his pen and paper. Patrick kind of really wants to go back and thank whoever created baseball pants. Maybe also tell him not to make them, because he's not getting notes down and instead is getting very familiar with Pete's attire.

Patrick picks up his pen and starts to jot down important-sounding parts of the lecture. Blablabla - America did this stupid thing in this year - blablabla - American soldiers went into battle for said stupid reason the next year after France declared war - blablabla - China did this thing that some other place in Europe didn't like and so they fought as well.

His notes look quite pathetic, but Patrick's never really been one for history, anyways.

A student in front row quickly gets up and runs out to nearest door, one hand over her mouth, the other over the small swell of her stomach. Patrick remembers talking to her in the beginning of the year; she wanted to get a proper job to help her ever growing family, so here she is. Poor woman, Patrick's tongue feels dry in his mouth just thinking about what it must be like, waking up every morning having to puke and then going off to juggle college and a pregnancy all at once.

Soon enough the professor gets back on track about the history between America and Europe, and Patrick keeps looking between the professor, his paper as he scribbles things down, and Pete's feet.

The ball is slowly taking his attention span from the teacher again. Pete's rolling it slightly with the soles of his shoes. He'd never been into soccer players, but then again, he'd never been into baseball players, either. Or sports, for that matter. Or guys. 

Surprisingly, Patrick wasn't really freaking out that only now, at twenty-one years old, he's learning he may be a little bit gay.

Pete's foot slides against the ball and the loud screech it produces makes him turn back to the professor, Professor Jonathan, quickly. He's not actually that boring of a teacher, he just tends to ramble on about things that Patrick'll never need to know in two years and so his eyes go searching for something that is more interesting. 'More interesting' usually meaning the brunette with the brown eyes, smile too big for his mouth, and awesome music taste if his shirts are anything to go by. It'd suck if Patrick is pinning over one of those fake music lovers.

 

**x-x-x**

 

Patrick was rudely awoken at god-awful 3 a.m. by a not-so-familiar _thunk thunk thunk_.

Normally these noises are heard along with loud moans and creaks from a bed, not just an almost-constant hit to a wall.

 _Stupid fucking neighbors with stupid non-existent normal sleeping times_ , Patrick thinks,  _stupid stupid stupid stupid - I hope you get hit by a car, or a truck, or my fist in your face._

There's another loud hit to a wall beneath him, and Patrick loses it. This is the third time this week and it's only Wednesday, mind you, so every night this week, he's been up because somebody thinks that sleep is unnecessary for other human life forms. Specifically ones with the initials PMS.

Patrick growls when another loud  _bang_ is heard. Throwing his sheets and comforter out of the way, he sits up groggily. He slips into a pair of flannel pants and fixes his shirt, then into a pair of shoes. He makes his way through his little apartment, trying not to kick anything over since he's navigating in the dark, and trying to grapple for where walls open up to rooms and rooms cut off into doorways.

Finally he finds his kitchen. Well, Patrick doesn't exactly find it, more or less like run into his kitchen table and chairs, probably bruising his thighs. He curses loudly in the silent room. Patrick can see the bright green clocks on his oven and microwave, both blurry because he forgot his glasses on his nightstand. There's no way he's going to try to maneuver back to his room, so he squints and tries to focus on one of them, but he's too far away. He slides closer to the cabinets lining the walls, wincing at the pain in his legs. The clocks are showing him it's 3:41 and 3:42, both at the same time. He rubs a hand over his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose.

He can still here the echo of whoever is down below him, doing whatever it is they're doing that's so loud. He sighs grabs his keys from the hook that has the moon's light shinning down upon it from the window over his sink, then stumbles over to his front door. The door squeaks when he unlocks it and opens it up, and the long gush of cold fall air that comes in makes him wish he had just covered his ears with a pillow, turned over, and fallen asleep.

Too late now, he guesses, and shuts the door firmly behind him. He shoves the key into the lock and checks twice that it's not going to open while he goes down one flight of stairs. Though who would try to break into his shitty apartment at this time, Patrick doesn't know.

He places his keys in his pocket and curls up his hand in the warmth that is there, feeling the cold metal from his key-loop hitting his knuckles with every other step down the stairwell. The breeze his making his hair stick up and his arms gather unwelcomed goosebumps. At the bottom of the turn-pad, he sees a little plant, leaves turning brown at the ends and he reminds himself to bring down some water tomorrow. It's probably dying more so from the cold weather, but it hasn't rained for a month or two either. He glances at it before going down the last few steps to the ground level apartments. Patrick's the middle door to the right, so hopefully his stupid downstairs neighbor is, too.

He moves past door numbered 113 and stands in front of 114. He can here the steady beat of  _thump thump thump bang thump thump thump_ and runs a hand through his hair before knocking. Three loud, punctuated knocks that're sure to get their attention.

Sure enough, the noise stops, and a few seconds later there's someone fumbling with the door handle and someone standing in front of him. They're all blurry, but Patrick can make out that it's probably a guy from the way he's wearing no shirt and doesn't have beasts.

"Um, hello?" The guy asks, and Patrick recognizes his voice, but is too tired to care who it is or how he knows him.

Patrick blinks at him, "It's 3 a.m., and some of us are trying to sleep, but you are very loud. Could you please keep it down? Because I have tests tomorrow."

The guy isn't much taller than him, but he can see the ink covering his body and is a little intimidated by his stance, "Yeah, well I have a test tomorrow, too. I'm studying for it right now. Or at least I was until you interrupted me."

Patrick is taken aback by his attitude, "No need to be like that, it's just that I live right above you and I'm very tired."

The guy crosses his arms, "Like I'm not tired at all." He says, "Look, that noise is me scoring goals, okay? And I need to get these right so I have a chance at getting a good input put in for me at the soccer teams all over the States."

"I'm not saying you need to stop." Patrick tries to reason, "I'm just saying you need to put some pillows up behind your little 'goal', because I'm not going back up only to have to come back down to tell you to quiet down again."

He snorts and rests his hip against his door frame, "Oh yeah? And what are you and your Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt gonna do to stop me?"

Patrick looks down at his shirt and huffs a breath, "My shirt has nothing to do with this entire situation, why- never mind. Just. Just keep it down will you? It's early and I do not have the time or the patience to deal with this right now."

"You think I'm just gonna do whatever you want with that attitude?" The guy asks, and the way he says it makes Patrick's stomach drop, "Do you know who I am?"

"No, and I honestly don't care. And I'm not giving you any attitude, I just politely asked if you cou-"

The guy peers down at him, then cuts him off with a hard, "I'm Pete fucking Wentz and I do what I want." Then slams his door in his face.

 _Well shit_ , Patrick thinks, backing up a step, _this could've gone better than planned._

 

**-**

 

When Patrick walks into his first class the next day, Pete's passed out, almost drooling a little. He feels like total shit and wishes he had put on his stupid fucking glasses before he went out last night because then maybe he wouldn't have one of the most _-_ well he wouldn't call it 'popular', but _popular_ \- guys on campus hating his guts.

 

**-**

 

When Patrick walks into his music theory class, one of Pete's friends that shares it with him sends him an angry look, and keeps doing so throughout the entire period. Let it be known that Patrick Stump doesn't _run away_ when class gets dismissed, because he's not a child, but he does walk a little faster than normal to get out of there.

 

**-**

 

So Pete never really stops disliking Patrick. Patrick gets a little down about this for the first couple of weeks, but he gets over it eventually and tries to ignore his stupid crush best he can. He stops going to the baseball and soccer games. He never enjoyed them fully anyways. Then Christmas breaks comes and he makes friends with Brendon and Ryan from the next apartment complex over. Two guys who go to the same college he's at. One of them does online courses, so it's no wonder why he never noticed him around. The second - Brendon? - is taking mostly late afternoon and night classes. They hang out sometimes, usually at their place rather than Patrick's because they have a lot more video games. That really helps Patrick get over the fact that Pete wants nothing to do with him. They jam. All getting together on a couch to play guitar. He jams out with Andy and Spencer, too. Usually Joe is out working when he's not in class, so they mostly take turns druming (they have _two_ sets of drums... **_two_** ). Sometimes Patrick will play guitar with Joe, when he's around anyways.

Patrick suspects that Joe doesn't actually live with Andy and Spencer because it's only a one bedroom apartment and even though they're all in some weird three-way relationship, Joe doesn't ever sleep in their bed. He always seems to be around anyways, napping on their couch, raiding their food pantry, surfing through their Netflix.

Patrick stopped going down to water the little plant on the steps the first time the Chicago weather had made it under 45°. He sees it when he goes out shopping, and it's hanging in there, if just barely. He doesn't know what it is, but he hopes that when spring and summer come, he'll be able to figure it out.

He also becomes friends with a guy named Gerard. They had waved at each other maybe once or twice in the halls, then ran into each other in a Starbucks and exchanged numbers. He's... weird. To say the least. Nice guy, real cool and down to earth until you get him going on world problems, or comics, or art. He's an art major, literally getting a degree in comic books. Patrick was never a 'true' comic book-loving guy, but he can appreciate some classic stuff. Also Catwoman, but you'll never hear that from him. If anyone ever sees some Catwoman comics lying around his apartment, Patrick whips up some lie about his cousin leaving them there when she came over last.

Anyways, Gerard is definitely something. He smokes more than Patrick can handle sometimes. Patrick's more a weed guy than a cigarette or cigar guy, even though he barely smokes weed anyways. Gerard's art is nice, though, maybe a little creepy sometimes. He once drew a picture of his art teacher in high school as a gruesome soul in Hell. He says the teacher didn't like it much; Patrick probably wouldn't have liked it if he were his teacher, either.

They haven't properly hung out, but sometimes they eat lunch together, and sometimes they'll talk on the phone for hours at a time. Not about anything in particular. Normally Gerard wants to rant, or he wants Patrick to talk about whatever and see if he can get anything inspirational through Patrick's rambling. They once had a 3 hour conversation about clouds. Patrick didn't even realize how long he'd been on the phone, just laying back on his couch and trying to understand Gerard's hate-love relationship with clouds and voice his own thoughts on the subject. Gerard's like that. You want to know more, you want to talk to him and you don't know why nor care what about. He's an overall interesting person.

 

**-**

 

Christmas break doesn't last nearly as long as Patrick thinks it should have. It feels as though finals were just last week. Like his mom and dad came over with Christmas presents and food a few days ago. But when he looks down at his phone's lock screen, he sees the date and realizes that he only has one day left until college starts back up again.

All the thoughts of Pete come wafting back into his mind and this time he finds it's hard to get them to just go away. His first instinct is to call up Gerard. Gerard knows about him, knows what happened on That Faithful Night. Patrick doesn't actually know if Gerard's gay or not, but whatever, he'll listen to his doubts and state his opinions and before Patrick will know it, it will be lunch time and they'll start talking about places to eat and he will forget all about Pete Wentz.

Patrick's second instinct is to go barge in and lay on the really comfy loveseat in Spencer and Andy's living room. They'd question him, maybe feed him, and then they'd take turns playing drums until their wrists hurt.

He doesn't know which option to choose, until he realizes that his Maths notebook is still at Spencer and Andy's apartment, so he might as well go anyways.

Patrick groans into the quiet air of his living room. It's not fair, stupid crushes are supposed to stop after you graduate high school, not continue on and get worse.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll be updating this whenever, but i have no clue where i'm going with this. i know where i want it to go, sorta, kinda, but no way to get there. just keep checking up with this every once in a while to see if i've added anything more, i guess [also, it would help if you probably comment "KEEP WRITING" or "DON'T FORGET ABOUT THIS" and shit like that so i don't forget about this - because i totally will, okay - so just, remind me, i guess, is what i'm trying to say (oh, and, if you can think of more pete/patrick moments i could add into here, similar to the ones i have already written, then maybe i'll add it in and add your user into notes of People Who've Helped)].
> 
> Updated 8/15/16


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